Bella's Point & Her Challenge

Thursday, July 31, 2014

Isabella Troy Stanley is a divorced, slave freeing pariah surviving in the shattered
post Civil War south the only way a fallen debutante knows how.She
heads to a Yankee prison and buys herself a husband.

Jack Byron is the former Troy plantation stable boy and object of young Bella's
affection. He rejected her then, and he's still not sold on the idea of
marrying her now.

It’s complicated.

Though to Bella, it’s simple: make Jack love her, marry her, and live
happily ever after. The plan seems to work...at least until her secret is
revealed.

Elizabeth
is a wife, a mom, and a writer. She has four wonderful boys, one dusty house,
and three published books to her credit. Feel free to check them out and buy
them HERE! Erm, the books,
not the kids or the house...though all things in life are negotiable ;)

Write something readers want to read. No word
limit, no guidelines. Your only prompt is: The year was 1865.... (feel
free to ignore the prompt, creative genius never bound by rules or
prompts)

Rolling Calf Encounter

The year was 1865 and Kahini
was sure his family would be dead by the time 1866 stepped in. Since the start
of the year, Mama said they had to eat healthy, which was no fun for the
family. Breakfast and dinner had more leaves than meat, but Mama said it was
good for them. No matter how she seasoned the nasty callaloo and pack-choy that
grew in the back garden, they did not taste any better.

Shomari couldn't help but
resent the Geohagen family for the plots of land they had leased to all the slaves
when they were set free in 1834. As far as Kahini saw it, the vegetables his mother
grew and sold in the market kept them tied to the land.

Mama swore by her
greens though, based on the good work she said Kahini and his brother were
doing at the school in the village. As he crouched in the dark, Kahini wondered
about that. If his brains were working right, why was he outside at night when
he could be lying on his cot in the room he shared with Shomari?

“Remind me again what we doing out here on a moonshine night,” Kahini said, while
he huddled behind a tree, trying to see though the fog that lay close to the
ground.

“Shhh!” Shomari put a finger to his lips and pointed with his other hand. “Over
there. Wait ‘til the moon comes
out from behind the cloud. You’ll see.”

Kahini rubbed his hands up and down his arms to keep away the chill. The wind
whistled around them and the leaves in the tree above them shook and danced. Something
slithered along a branch over their heads. In the darkness, it looked as big as
a mambo, but it was probably a
tree snake. The moonshine made everything large and spooky. Only the souls of
the dead slaves who roamed the estate should be out on a night like this.

Every story
he had ever heard about things that wandered in the night came back to haunt Kahini.
The great house at the top of the hill caught his eyes. The cutwork stone walls
loomed high above the ground, making him think of that story Gan-Gan had told him
about the woman who was sometimes seen late at night, riding a white horse around
the house.

Kahini's body
went cold again. The cane leaves rustled on the other side of the track and the
banana trees to their right joined them, beating their leaves together. On the
ground, the shadows from the banana leaves made Kahini think of duppies.
Gan-Gan, who was probably a hundred years old like Backra John in the big
house, said the spirits roamed at night, seeking to devour runaway slaves.

Something
brushed his ear and Kahini came close to snapping his neck. Goosebumps raced
over his back and he got ready to run, but the mist was thick tonight. If he
ran, he'd fall and break something and Mama would fix his business.

Shomari let
out a giggle and held up a feather. "It's just me playing with you."

Kahini sucked
air through his teeth and grumbled, then he heard it. A jangling that made his
body go ice cold.

To their
left, the bushes moved and then went still, although the wind was still
blowing. The rattling of a chain carried on the hazy air. In the mist, a shadowy figure approached them,
low to the ground, its eyes glowing green. The monster grunted and pawed the
dirt, spreading a musty odour.

Shomari yelled. “Run!”

Kahini cut through the bushes, with the creature running hard on his
heels. It snarled and made gurgling sounds in its throat. Kahini pictured
teeth as long as machete blades, which made him run faster. Heart pounding, he clawed
at the cane fronds hugging the path certain he would pee himself, but he kept
going. When he thought his heart would explode through his ears, the creature
behind him yelped and tore down a side track.

Kahini ran on,
hardly aware of the leaves whipping his skin. He slowed and then stopped when he
remembered the monster had run away. When he came to the next clearing, he leaned
against a tree, holding himself up with his hands pressed to his knees.

Soon, Shomari
came out of the darkness, his chest wheezing as if he was in the middle of an
asthma attack. Kahini hoped he wouldn't get sick because Mama would blame him
for that too.

“Gan-Gan was right! Rolling calves really exist!” Kahini said, when he could speak.
The thought of that bull from hell with red eyes—only this one had green
eyeballs—nearly made him wet his shorts.

Shomari giggled and bent over, holding his belly. He continued laughing, while his
chest heaved and after a moment, he pressed both hands to his sides.

“What’s so funny?” Kahini asked, wiping sweat off his forehead.

“You!” Shomari said, holding up a length of chain. “Rolling calves don’t exist. Gan-Gan
just likes to make up scary stories so we won't go out at night. The
rolling calf you were running from is just a stray mongrel I found yesterday.”

"And you
won't live to see tomorrow," Kahini yelled, as he chased Shomari into the
cane piece.

22 comments:

So funny! I was that sort of kid. Whatever my grandma told me, I believed and my imagination was way to big for my cowardly soul. I imagined all sorts of really bad things in the dark! (Still do, though I rarely admit it.)

Congratulations to Elizabeth. Joy, I was so right ther with your story. Everything from callaloo to from the rustle in the leaves, the night frights, so real. Well done! I could see this story becoming a novel.